Ordinary Non Magical Things
by Merry1978
Summary: Everyone has small weaknesses, and quite often everything comes to the simplest, ordinary things. Post war, post Hogwarts. A series of independent drabbles.
1. A Cuff Link

Author: Merry1978  
Translation into English: belana & Merry  
Pairings/heroes: SS/RL, HP  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Everyone has small weaknesses, and quite often everything comes to the simplest, ordinary things.  
Post-war, post-Hogwarts. A series of independent drabbles.

* * *

**A ****Cuff Link**

"Are you sure you don't want to stay?" Harry Potter asked for the umpteenth time without any real hope. Staying by the doorway, he was despondently watching Remus pack the bags.

"I am sure, Harry." Remus sighed, looking around the empty, almost deserted bedroom of his old cottage. "I have nothing to live on and no job."

"Sirius left heaps of money," Harry reminded him stubbornly. "You can..."

"First of all, he left it to you," Remus answered calmly, checking if he had left anything necessary in the drawers. "Secondly, I can't bear to hang around doing nothing. Thirdly, I will have all civil rights in Canada, unlike our Merry Old England.

"It's all Snape's doing!" Harry uttered with hatred. "If it weren't for him, you could work anywhere!"

"Until another clever girl would have noticed the connection between the full moon and my regular absence," Remus objected gently, packing a tie he had just found in the depths of the drawers.

"What about Tonks?" Harry turned to the last resort.

"She and I have talked everything through," Remus answered vaguely. "That's enough of it. Trust me, it will be better for everyone this way. Alright, are we done?"

Harry looked carefully around the room once more.

"Hey, what's this?" he stepped forward, noticing something shiny near the foot of the bed. "A cuff link?"

He picked it up and handed it to Remus.

"Ah, you found it! Just put it into the case, will you?" Remus suggested carelessly, adjusting the belt of his jeans and fastening his jacket. As he was going to Montreal via Muggle plane, he had dressed accordingly.

Harry obeyed. The cuff link landed in the middle of the case and disappeared immediately between the piles of clothes.

Remus closed the case and smiled.

"Now everything is done," he said. "I will write you as soon as I settle down."

"Right," Harry nodded. "So we could find you, in case anything important happens." His smile turned predatory. "Maybe we'll get Snape. You know, they already promise five thousand Galleons for his head."

Remus only shook his head.

"There are better ways to spend the money... Alright, I've got to go, Harry. Come along."

On the porch, Remus locked the door and gave the keys to Harry.

"Give them to the new owners. Well... Good bye?"

"Good luck!"

"Thanks," Remus nodded and Disapparated.

The plane was gaining altitude, and Remus looked at the man in the next chair. The brunet with a short haircut was dressed in a severe tailored black suit; he was reading a newspaper. Remus bent to him and said quietly: "I have your cuff link."

"Hmm?"

"It was under the bed."

"Hmm."

"We're lucky that Harry is somewhat inattentive."

The brunet forgot about the newspaper and abruptly turned to face him.

"What does Potter have to do with it?"

"Harry tried to persuade me to stay. And while I was packing, he accidentally noticed your cuff link under the bed. Luckily, the boy didn't notice that it was made of silver. He handed it to me, imagine that!"

"How did you manage to bluff it out?"

"I asked him to put it into the case in the most casual manner," Remus shrugged. "When we arrive, get it out yourself."

The brunet nodded.

"I need to find some substitute," he muttered thoughtfully. "Otherwise it will come to no good."

"When you get rich, you can switch to platinum," Remus snorted.

"Mmm," his companion replied and returned to his newspaper.

In the meantime Harry forgot about his accidental discovery. He had no way of knowing that one of the few weaknesses one Severus Snape ever had was cuff links, elegant and preferably handmade.


	2. A Cane

Author: Merry1978  
Translation into English: belana & Merry  
Pairings/heroes: HP, DM  
Rating: Gen  
Summary: Everyone has small weaknesses, and quite often everything comes to the simplest, ordinary things.  
Post-war, post-Hogwarts. A series of independent drabbles.

* * *

**A Cane**

Senior Auror Harry James Potter was spending the last day of his business trip to Paris walking leisurely in Bois de Boulogne. Everything has been settled, a Portkey to London had been ordered for the next morning. Right now he had the day all to himself.

He mulled over the success of the operation carried out together with his French colleagues, when something long, landing on the grass to the left, caught his attention. After taking a closer look at it, Harry froze. It was a cane. A very familiar cane with a silver cane-head. He could swear this was the very cane he had seen in the hands of Lucius Malfoy almost fifteen years before.

"Pif! Pif, fetch!" a clear voice of a child called out in French. A well-groomed brown spaniel ran over to the cane and grabbed it. It looked like the dog has been playing with this toy for a long time – the wood had been heavily bitten, Harry noted absentmindedly.

"Pif! Pif, come here!" another child ordered.

Harry turned around slowly, already knowing exactly what he would see.

Indeed, a tall blond man with a pretty dark-haired woman by his side was walking down the alley. Two boys of approximately five and seven years old were running around. All four of them were dressed as Muggles, naturally. Moreover, Harry could bet, that the woman had not one iota of magical blood in her veins. He worked as an Auror long enough to recognize its presence fairly accurately.

"Pif, come here!" the older boy repeated. The dog ran up to him, but showed no intention of giving the cane back. "Papa, he doesn't listen!"

"Pif, give it to me," the father said calmly reaching out for the cane. The dog obediently brought it to him. The man swung his arm and threw the cane far into the bushes. "Fetch!"

The dog rushed headlong after it, and the children dashed after their pet, squealing. The blond man waited until they were at least thirty feet away, and then turned to Harry.

"Potter?" he inquired evenly.

Potter looked into cold grey eyes of Draco Malfoy – still one of the most wanted by the British Aurors – for several long moments.

"I'm afraid you took me for somebody else," he replied in broken French. "Have a nice day, monsieur."


	3. A Bag

Author: Merry1978  
Translation into English: belana & Merry  
Pairings/heroes: MM  
Rating: Gen  
Summary: Everyone has small weaknesses, and quite often everything comes to the simplest, ordinary things.  
Post-war, post-Hogwarts. A series of independent drabbles.

* * *

**A ****Bag**

The Headmistress McGonagall's bag was the talk of the town – or the castle – at Hogwarts.

For one thing, no one could ever understand why a powerful witch needed a bag in the first place. After all, almost everything could be Accio-ed, transfigured or at least shrunk and put in the pocket.

Secondly, the notorious bag was huge. It was not a purse or a fancy-bag, but a real bag, and an enormous one – a black leather thing with a large buckle and sizable pockets.

But the most intriguing part of the riddle was: what's inside? This mystery became the origin of many legends. Students would have made bets, if there were a dare-devil, daring enough to peek inside it.

Ingenuous girls from Hufflepuff insisted that McGonagall carried her beauty products there. The boys from the same House assumed that the bag was used for different school documents and papers. The students of the other three Houses turned these guesses down with unanimity rarely seen.

Ravenclaws usually shrugged: "There are books in it, of course. What else there could be?"

Romantic Gryffindors were of the opinion that McGonagall carried a weapon in it. Say, the dagger of Godric Gryffindor himself or at least a shrunken claymore.

Slytherins snickered and said that the Headmistress simply carried a load of liquor around. Several bottles of Scotch whiskey, for example. "Otherwise she would not have the patience to deal with you," they teased the inhabitants of the lion's den. Naturally, almost every such provocation ended in a fight.

However, all these guesses were nowhere near the truth. It just didn't occur to anyone that such a harsh and haughty lady could suffer from a typical feline weakness. Actually, the Headmistress's bag was... empty. Her four-legged alter ego, like so many of her fluffy kind, absolutely adored to sleep in there.


End file.
